


Huntmaster

by FallenForgivence



Series: Beyond Death [1]
Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-14
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2020-03-05 10:11:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18826570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenForgivence/pseuds/FallenForgivence
Summary: What does it mean to be a Huntsman? And what more does it mean to be a Huntmaster? In the late days of humanity, there are few and far between remaining Huntsman, and fewer Huntmasters. But as humanity strikes out in their last days, to the unknown beyond the unknown, the knowledge of the Huntsmen will persevere, through the life and experience of Huntmaster Holly.A short story of Huntsman Holly, from an era before the Beyond Death anthology. A short story meant to help envision the world before the one that exists now, in which life and death are a blurred line.





	Huntmaster

“What do you think a hunter is, little one?”

She thought to herself, remembering the time in her mind, and how such an odd question had come about. The memory came to her, slowly at first, with each detail etched in her mind like the carvings in a stone.

The memory of an ancient house, the artificial sun hanging low in the sky as it crests on the shoulder of the old huntmaster. She remembered it well. The scent of vanilla in the air, the cool wind fluttering in through the open courtyard. The warm summer heat filling the air, as the the sounds of hunters training drifted through the air.

“Someone who’s really good at killing things. Right?”

“Not exactly, my dear.” He chuckles at her, the sunlight dancing along his shoulder as she looked out to the grounds. The sound of metal striking metal, flesh meeting flesh, and arrow striking wood.

“But isn’t that why we train?”

“It is one aspect, yes.” She tilts her head, pointing to Merriam, a renown huntsman, as she looks to the grand huntmaster.  
“But he’s a great hunter. And he kills all his prey.” The huntmaster laughs softly, ruffling the hair of his protege lightly. His head shakes as he stands, beckoning her to follow.  
“Come. We have much training to do. Perhaps you will see, in time, what it means to be a huntmaster.”  
She looks to the sky, for a time, smiling as the sun drifts low along the skyline. In the far distance, thunder rumbles, the echoing boom rolling across the land. She closes her eyes to take in the world around her, smiling to herself.

As her eyes open, the world quakes, the air filled with the stench of death and decay. Beside her, Merriam, presses a hand low to her back. A finger pressed to his lips, he motions for her to follow behind him, as the scent of rotting flesh lingers in the air.

She crawls through the underbrush, slowly. Patiently. The cold dirt squelching quietly beneath her bare feet as her bare body drags itself across the ground. In front of her, Merriam raises his head slightly, eyes narrowing.

All around them, Thundertusks trample the forest, startled by her simple mistake. Their massive forms crushing plants and animals alike, the herd spooked from their recent kill by her impatient attempt at the pack leader's life.

Thundertusks. A wild, feral pack based animal. Large, four legged creatures most commonly known for their tusks that bend before their face. Carnivores that bludgeon their prey to death using the natural barrier that is formed by their tusks. Their mating ritual involves battering their heads together until a winner is determined, the loser backing down if they can survive. The process lends them their famous name, and imposing presence.

And she went and tried to kill the leader of the pack, just after a kill, when they are most violent and wild. Naturally, she knew that Thundertusk pack leaders are most distracted after a fresh kill, often too busy asserting their dominance to notice a simple human hunter sneaking through the underbrush.

Suddenly, Merriam stops, nudging her with a foot, motioning in front of them. As she crawls alongside of him, peering through the underbrush, they see their mark. The thundertusk pack leader posturing over the kill, the herd calming as they slowly circling around him. Merriam holds a finger to his lips as he motions for her to follow along.

“We’ll crawl with the herd….and when you see your opening, strike. I’ll disperse the rest while you make the kill.” He whispers lowly, waving her on. She nods lightly, brushing several leaves from her face as she begins her crawl with the feet of the herd. One misplaced step, one rowdy male, or aggressive female, and she would be crushed under their feet.

And so they crawl. Inching along the ground with every passing foot, every close call, every brush with the leg of a beast large enough to crush them without a second thought. The opening came with time, her body growing cold as her mind raced, Merriam lunging forwards as he whoops and yells, scaring the pack into a frenzy and causing them to run wild.

She leaps from the brush, drawing her blade and sinking it into the flesh of the alpha. The world stains red, her face coated in blood as her body surges forwards, the knife burying itself deep in the hide of the great beast.

The pack flees, panic overtaking them as they scatter. Her hand presses against the side of the alpha, its eyes glossing over with a foggy mist as the knife pierces its heart, the air slowly escaping its dying form.

“Good job, little one.” Merriam calls, sheathing his own blade and walking over. Her blade pulls from the beast's side, blood pouring from the wound in trickling streams as she nods lowly, breathing heavily.

Yet, as she looks at the corpse of her kill, she feels a sting of sadness. The hide of the beast is one to behold, the silvery fur glistening softly under the sunlight that peeks through the canopy above. The scent of pheromones filling the air, mingling with the cracked and broken wood, the upturned soil, and the smell of blood and fetid flesh.

A primal beast, so powerful and overwhelming, brought down by her blade, and her blade alone.

She closes her eyes, taking in the smells, the sounds, the sensation of exhilaration that rushes through her. And the she says a quiet word for the beast that she has slain.

As her eyes open, she stands before her peers, her bloodied dagger held out, as her bare form stands beneath the heat of the sun, the smell of sand and dirt in the air, the cold stone underfoot. The cold wind brushing past her as she breaths in the scents of charcoal and fire, of excitement from those gathered around her, and of the stained blood that coats her dagger.

“We welcome sister Little Foot among our ranks. No more, is she a simple fledgling among eagles. No more, a shuttlefish beside sharks. She stands proud, a hunter among her peers, and a warrior of the forests and woodlands.” The huntmaster raises his sword above those who have gathered, a murmur rippling through the crowd.

“Her blade shall forever be stained by the blood of her first, true hunt. And she will be known as Holly, for the root under which she was born!” The huntmaster waves a hand, Holly stepping forward as ceremonial garb is lowered before her.

The leather uniform of her people, worn by huntmasters who need no more than the land beneath their feet, the sky to guide their way, and the blade at their side to hunt. Her uniform, a leather jerkin and leather hide skirt. A mantle of holly and feather, with thundertusk teeth, from the very alpha that she had killed, strung around her neck.

“Wear it proudly, child.” The huntmaster mutters, giving her a nod of approval. “It is a sign of your growth.” He takes her hand, clasping it between his own, before turning and raising it to the sky.

“Welcome your sister among you!” The many gathered hunters cheer as they whoop and holler to the sky, raising their weapons above them. Holly inhales proudly, raising her hand to the sky on her own, cheering proudly in the evening light of her home.

As the warmth of the revelry washes over her, the warmth of the evening sky glistening across the smooth stone rooftops of the hunters grounds, she closes her eyes and breaths in.

The cold fills her body. Darkness encompasses her, as her mind sluggishly awakens. Her skin feels rigid, hard and unmoving. The world is blurred and fractured before her as she breathes in, coughing heavily as fluid fills her lungs.

“Here we go. Careful now.” Huntmaster Merriam takes her hand as the glass casing lowers away. “Take your time.” He murmurs, his voice muffled as her body flinches from the sudden warmth.

She steps forward, collapsing as she vomits the fluid from within her, her body quaking and screaming in pain as it awakens. 

Chief Science Officer Jennifer Santos steps forwards, writing something on the databoard that she always has on hand. She looks over Holly, making an annoyed ‘tsk’ as she motions once for Merrium to assist her in standing.

“Good recovery, but not good enough.” Jennifer comments, clipping the board to her belt as she twists a finger, a light shining in Holly’s face. “Dilated pupils….hrm...fluid in the lungs. Apparent cold shock.”

She takes the databoard from her side, nodding as she waves to Merriam.

“Are you alright?” she finally asks, Holly nodding her head roughly as she wipes her mouth, blinking several times to clear her head. “Good. Soon as you’ve recovered, we’ll go over procedure, to make sure there’s no neural damage, then we can try again when you’re ready.”

Holly nods once more, coughing a few times as Merriam leads her away to fully come out of stasis. He brings her to the ready room, sitting her down and looking her over. As she clears her lungs, he sighs and rubs his face.

“Holly, look. I understand why you’re doing all this.” He stops as she raises a hand, shaking her head.

“Merriam, I won’t let you go through this. I know you want me to stay here, and be the next huntmaster, but I can’t. Humanity needs our teachings, or we’ll only throw ourselves at anything we see, hoping it will be friendly.”

Merriam nods slowly, sighing as he gives her another nod.

“I understand. But all of this seems so….extreme. Jennifer said she has others who could do this-” Once more, holly shakes her head.

“It is better that I do it. If anything goes wrong, then I can handle it. Don’t worry so much. It’ll make you age faster.” She smirks at him, rubbing her face as she does so.

“Ugh. why does it always taste like lemons and nickel?” She sticks her tongue out, Merriam laughing lightly as he offers her mantle up. “Thanks.” She pulls it over her body, adjusting it lightly and wandering over to her locker to dress properly.

“Alright….we’ll start with the questions, then.” Merriam begins, Holly sitting before him as she types on the cold, hard surface of the datatable. The warm smell of coffee, the steam that wafts from her cup. The pleasant company of her fellow Huntmaster, Merriam.

If she could have it her way, she would never change a thing. She’d spend her days on Traxis IX, hunting the great clefthoof wildebeests for game, or perhaps on Tartos XII, soaring among the raven folk and hunting the cloudrunner Illiek.

But with the decline of humanity, from war, strife, sickness, and conflict among the resident species of their home universe, things were looking grim.

“Alright. Everything appears to be in order. I’ll let Jennifer know.” Merriam stands, walking past Holly as she looks down at the databoard before her. Her and the other hunters were no strangers to technology, but they often avoided it for more practical methods of hunting.

Surely one could shoot an animal from a great distance, but there was no sport in it. At least, that was the teachings that the huntsman knew. And not always would they kill. Only when their prey was truly wild, truly feral would they kill. And only if it was safe for the species to do so.

She closes her eyes, letting the warmth of her mug fill the palms of her hands as she rests before her next test.

The cold envelops her once more. Her mind dreamed in fractured memories, of her days spent training among the hunters. Her time spent in the underbrush of countless worlds, hunting among the natives, or high in the sky as she tracked some great beast of burden.

“Why are we…?” She tried to speak, only to find herself collapsed forwards, her whole body screaming in agony as her chest heaves and retches. Her lungs felt like they were on fire with each breath, taking in the air of the starship Apollo 44.

The ship had been named after one of the first multi-solar system starships, as a reminder of who they are, and where they came from. But they had been flung into the great dark that lies at the edge of everything, thrown from their home in an attempt to find a place for humanity to thrive, far away from their dying universe.

Holly stands, taking a moment to collect herself as the soft sound of beeping fills the air. “Are you okay, ma’am?” One of the QUILs approaches, inquiring as she presses a hand against the side of her stasis-chamber.

“What….where…?” She asks, panic slowly filling her mind as she tries to collect herself. The QUIL drone injects her arm with a substance, her body flinching instinctively, albeit sluggishly as the sedative enters her bloodstream.

She leans against the side of her stasis chamber, rubbing her face as she blinks the visions from her sight. Her mind is a jumbled mess, her thoughts scattered.

“How long has it been?” She questions, shaking her head to properly clear her mind.

“Approximately four eons, ma’am.” She groans heavily, looking up as she looks into the chamber beside her own.

“Why was I woken?” She questions, looking at the stasis chamber of Gerald Renfield Illiard Maxson. “What…?” She questions once more as she looks at the deceased body of Gerald, his lifesigns monitor showing a flatline.

“We awoke you due to an emergency malfunction of your neighbor. There was a power fluctuation, and we wished to ensure your survival, ma’am.” QUIL remarks, walking away as another drone approaches.

“If you would please follow me, so that we may ensure your health and wellness, before returning you to stasis.” holly nods shortly as she pushes away from the stasis chambers.

The ship feels cold, a low draft running along the ground and sending a shiver up her spine. The smell of sterile metal and machine oils lingering in the air as the cold slowly creeps away from her body, though the hair on her skin stands on end.

For nearly two hours, the drones inspect and question her, to which she answers each and every one. They lay her on a cold mat, running her through a scanner in the medical bay to ensure no tissue damage, brain damage, or bodily harm.

“You appear to be in ship shape, ma’am.” The QUIL nearest to her remarks, stepping around the bed to assist her in standing.

“Good.” She says quietly, her body still yelling at her as she tries not to wake up more than is needed. “Let me see the outside, before I go back to sleep?”

“Certainly. This way.”

Holly walks through the lifeless halls, QUIL drones stepping or rolling past her as she follows along behind one. Within a few moments, she enters the bridge, the darkness of the room filling her with a sense of dread, even as she gazes out at a sight she never thought she’d see.

“That’s a planet, isn’t it?” She remarks, pointing to the lifeless sphere before the Apollo, even as it carefully drifts on through the endless dark.

“Most certainly, ma’am.”

“Then why aren’t we awakening the captain?” She looks to the commander module, where the commanders and leaders of the remnants of humanity slumber in their chambers. The light within the room is nearly drowned out by the ambient darkness that surrounds them.

“It is a dead world, ma’am. Captain’s orders are to only awaken him if a planet with life on it is found.” She lets out a low noise, nodding slowly as she rubs her eyes. “If you would please, follow me so that you may return to your rest, ma’am.”

“Right….right.” She remarks, looking out in the endless dark for a time. She can see things moving in the dark, but she can’t make out what they are. If they’ve survived in this endless abyss for so long, then perhaps they are just harmless denizens of the abyss.

As she walks back through the corridors of the ship, she shivers from the draft that runs along the floor, her bare feet wiggling lightly on the cold metal as she stands in front of the now empty chamber that once housed Gerald.

“Well….back into the dark I go.” She mutters as she turns and lowers herself into the chamber. She waves to the QUIL drone, watching it wave back at her. It may just be programing, but it’s still a comfort to see some semblance of life, artificial or otherwise.

She breathes deeply, closing her eyes and letting her breathe out slowly as the chamber thrums softly, the cold clinging to her skin once more. Once more, she delves into the endless dream, unknowing of when she would awaken again, if ever.


End file.
